Brad and Ray On the Road
by polar bear dog
Summary: Generation Kill AU Brad and Ray are college students in New York. They decide to road-trip all the way to Los Angeles. In rebellion of Brad's rules, Ray picks up a couple of recognisable hitch-hikers, who make the trip all the more interesting. Featuring the fictional characters of Brad Colbert, Ray Person, plus more of our favourites to come.
1. Chapter 1: On the Road

Chapter 1: On The Road

"Ray! Get your white-trash ass in the car already!" Brad yelled, leaning against the door of the jeep. Ray, Brad's college roommate and partner in crime, strutted out of their college house, his rucksack in one hand and his gold-rimmed sunglasses in the other. As Ray appeared, Brad shook his head. "I was going to leave without you."

"Well I imagine that that would have been difficult, considering I had the infinite wisdom to place the keys safely in my pocket." Ray patted his shirt pocket and frowned when he found it empty. Brad let him pat his other pockets. Ray looked up at the unmistakeable jingle of his keys, and saw that Brad was holding them in his hand.

"You left them on the table," he said with a grin, throwing them to Ray. Ray caught them and moved towards the driver's door, making a face at Brad. They both got in the jeep.

"We got everything stowed?" Brad asked, throwing Ray's rucksack into the back seat when Ray dropped it into his lap.

"Don't worry, Brad, it's all good," Ray told his friend, winding down the window. Brad did the same, leaning his elbow on the sill.

"So we're on the move, then?" Brad asked. In reply Ray started the engine with a cheesy grin at Brad.

"We are gonna fuck shit up!" Ray yelled out the window to other college students on the street, who cheered in reply.

As they drove down the street and out of campus grounds, Brad sighed. "Two days, minimum, of being stuck in this jeep with you, one of the most insane mother fuckers I have ever known, to return you back to your Californian trailer park where you'll no doubt impregnate another one of your neighbours' uglier daughters."

Ray's only reply was to start singing. Brad sighed. It was going to be a long drive.


	2. Chapter 2: Gabe Garza

Chapter 2: Gabe Garza

A couple of hours later, they were out on the highway. Brad let out a sigh of relief that they were finally out of the city and on the road.

Right on cue, Ray started to sing. Brad had managed to shut him up while they drove through New York traffic. But out on the open road, Ray didn't have anything else to occupy his mind. So he began to sing.

"On the road again," he sang, his whiny voice hinting at his native Californian accent, even after a couple of years living in New York. "Just can't wait to get on the road -"

"Ray! What have I said about country music?" Brad asked loudly. Ray hunched his shoulders a little and pouted. Then he turned to Brad.

"You have so many fucking rules, which is kinda messed up because, despite your pretence that you own it, this is my car," Ray said. "You're just along for the ride,"

"Come on, Ray," Brad said, his voice soothing. He did not want Ray grumpy at him for the next two days. "I know it's your car. Just… no country music, alright?"

Ray huffed. "Fine."

They drove in silence for a while, which Brad preferred to Ray's insistent babble, but alas, it was not to last. Ray spotted a hitch-hiker on the side of the road, and pulled over before Brad could remind Ray about his rule of no hitch-hikers. It was a young Hispanic man who wore thick black-rimmed glasses.

"Hey mate, where you headed?" Ray asked out the window. The young man smiled.

"Trying to get Michigan ways, can you help a brother out?" he asked. Ray turned to Brad and smiled sweetly at Brad's frown.

"Of course we can," Ray said warmly, still staring at Brad, as if daring him to contradict him. Brad just sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Hop in."

The young man grinned widely and jumped in the back of the jeep. He only had a rucksack and put it with Ray's in the back seat. "Hey thanks, by the way, I really appreciate it. Name's Gabe. Gabe Garza."

"Nice to meet you, Gabe," Ray said with a grin. He raised an eyebrow at Brad, who sighed again.

"Yeah," he said finally, his voice not convincing at all. "Nice to meet you."

"So where in Michigan you headed, Gabe?" Ray asked, pulling back onto the road and setting off again.

"Back home to Detroit," Gabe said with a grin. "What about you two? Where are you headed?"

"Home to LA," Ray said with a dreamy smile. "Back to the West Coast, where the girls wear summer dresses all year long!"

"Nice," Gabe said appreciatively.

"You have no idea," Ray said with feeling, and started on a rant about how good looking the girls were in Los Angeles compared to New York, purely because they wore less clothes. Brad managed to tune him out by staring out the window.


	3. Chapter 3: Trombley

Chapter 3: Trombley

About an hour after the picked up Gabe, Ray glanced at Brad, who reluctantly nodded his head in approval of the new addition to their road trip. Gabe seemed to be the perfect hitcher. He didn't talk too much, didn't question Ray's insane theories on life, and didn't annoy Brad, which was a miracle in itself. He also acted as a buffer between Ray and Brad. Ray could talk to Gabe about the things that Brad had refused to talk about with him, and Brad could tune out Ray's singing with a conversation with Gabe. Brad was starting to wish that Gabe was staying with them all the way to California.

Ray spotted another hitch-hiker. He began to slow. "Lets see if I can get two for two," he suggested with a grin at Brad.

"No, Ray," Brad said, but his protests fell on deaf ears. Ray pulled over next to the young man, whose expression of mild discontent didn't change when he saw them.

"Where you headed?" Ray asked. The kid stared at Ray for a moment. While Gabe seemed to be about their age, this kid looked about seventeen or eighteen. His expression was suspicious.

"Kid, did you hear him?" Brad asked. "Where you headed?"

"Nebraska," the kid said. Ray glanced at Brad, who just shrugged.

"Alright! Jump in!" Ray said with a more cautious grin. "What's your name?"

"Trombley," he said. Ray raised an eyebrow at Brad as he pulled back into the road.

"Just 'Trombley'?" Brad asked, a grin of derision growing on his face.

"Only my mom calls me by my Christian name," Trombley said, expression serious.

"Well, then," Ray said, his voice just this side of mocking. "Trombley it is! I'm Ray, this is Brad, and next to you is Gabe. Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, fasten your seat belt and enjoy the ride!"

Brad shook his head at Ray's cheesy antics, getting a laugh out of Gabe.

"So, Trombley, what do you do?" Gabe asked.

"I'm a mechanic," Trombley said. Brad frowned.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen in a month," Trombley replied, his voice defensive. "Just finished my apprenticeship, heading out to Nebraska to set up my own garage."

"Nice," Brad said. "I'm a mechanical engineer myself. Or, I will be, once I graduate."

"You mean you had to beat books for a couple of years to do what I'm doing without a college degree?" Trombley asked, lazily leaning back into the seat. Ray glanced at Brad, whose expression went ice cold.

"Hey now, Brad, he didn't mean it like that. Did you, Trombley?"

"Mean it like what?" Trombley asked. Ray stared at Trombley in his rear-view for a moment, then smirked and shook his head.

"Unbelievable," he said with a breathy laugh. Brad slowly began to grin also.

"Mean it like what?" Trombley asked again. Gabe began to laugh, and Ray and Brad soon joined in.

"Clueless," Gabe laughed.

Trombley frowned. "Did I miss something? Is this like an in-joke?"

"It's fine, Trombley," Brad said at last. "Don't worry about it."


	4. Chapter 4: Fate

Chapter 4: Fate

They were about halfway to Detroit when Trombley started to talk about the jeep. He earned mega points from Brad when he admired how smooth it ran. Brad just grinned and told Trombley that, despite Ray's insistence that the car was his, Brad was the one that kept it running and on the road. They launched into a huge discussion about cars and the best ways to fix different problems.

"As much as I love to see you making new friends," Ray said drily. "It would help me a lot if I knew where we were going. Do we get off at this exit or not?"

Brad rolled his eyes and bent to reach the map on the ground. It wasn't there.

"Where's the map?" he asked.

"How am I supposed to know? You're the navigator."

"Ray, I'm serious, did you move it?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Gabe," Brad called. "Is it in the back?"

Gabe shuffled around and found it underneath his feet. "Here," he said, handing it to Brad. Brad quickly flicked through the map.

"Well? Do we get off at this exit or not?" Ray asked. Brad didn't say anything. "Brad!"

"Just give me a minute," he said finally, his tone frustrated.

"You've got about two seconds," Ray said. When Brad didn't reply, he sighed. "I'm making an executive decision, and I'm getting off at this exit." He indicated and got into the next lane. They were well and truly off the highway when Brad sighed.

"Ray, you inbred idiot, we weren't supposed to get off there," he said, leaning back into his seat. Ray shook his head.

"Again, how was I supposed to know?" Ray asked.

"I thought you'd be at least a little familiar with the roads -" Brad began, but was cut off by Gabe.

"Guys, it's fine, we can just get right back onto the highway," he said, sounding nice and reasonable.

"Just get back on the highway?" Ray asked incredulously. "Just get back on the highway? No, no, no, my friend, we were brought here for a reason!"

"Jesus, you're as bad as Fruity Rudy," Brad muttered.

"Who's Fruity Rudy?" Trombley asked. "Is he a fag?"

"Nah, he just spouts all this fucking fate-yoga-life affirming shit," Brad told the kid. "Ray, just get back on the highway."

"No fucking way, Brad!" Ray said, shaking his head, his eyes wide and serious. "We're not fucking leaving this shit-hole of a town until we find what we were brought here for!"

They ended up staying around for the better part of an hour. Ray insisted they stop to eat at the local diner, which boasted the "Best Burgers in the State!"

"No fucking way these are the best burgers in the state," Ray said, his mouth full of chewed up burger and bread. He popped an onion back in his mouth when it fell out. "If these are the best burgers in the state, then this must be one gigantic fuck-up of a state."

"Lets just get back on the highway, shall we?" Brad asked in a soothing tone. "Come on, you got your 'reason.' Let's just go."

Ray reluctantly agreed. They all jumped back into the jeep and started off.

On the last stretch of road before they got back on the highway, Ray spotted a hitch-hiker on the side of the road. He wore one of those stupid Australian hats and looked older than the rest of them.

"This is it," Ray said excitedly, his hope restored in fate. "This is the reason we were brought here! Not for some fucking sub-standard burgers."

"He better not be some fucking psycho," Brad muttered, knowing he couldn't stop Ray even if he tried.

"Yeah, we already got one of those," Gabe said, getting a laugh from Brad and Ray. Trombley frowned.

"What?" he asked, making them laugh even harder. Ray pulled over next to the hitch-hiker.

"Hey friend, where you headed?" Ray asked, squinting in the sun.

"California," the man said.

Ray glanced at Brad, a smug expression on his face. "Same as us! You need a lift?"

The man hesitated for a moment, smiling suspiciously at the jeep full of young men. "You have the room?"

"Sure!" Ray exclaimed. "Gabe, shuffle over. Trombley, make room!"

Brad took a look at their newest hitcher. He was in his late twenties or early thirties. He had bags under his eyes and pen marks on his hands.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm Evan. I'm a reporter."

"Oh, so you're a reporter?" Ray asked with a grin that said that he wasn't really interested. Either Evan didn't comprehend the meaning of the smile, or he was ignoring it.

"Yeah, I'm doing a piece on hitch-hikers," he said, glancing at Gabe and Trombley.

"You got lucky, reporter," Brad said. "This cars just full of hitch-hikers, isn't it, Ray?" Brad turned his ice-blue gaze to his friend, who just smiled back, his eyes full of innocence.


	5. Chapter 5: He's just a Skater Boy

Chapter 5: He's Just A Skater Boy

With the reporter in the back interviewing Trombley and Gabe, Brad and Ray spent some time figuring out how exactly they were going to get to Detroit. They figured out a route and tuned back in to the conversation just in time to hear Evan the reporter asking whether Trombley feared sexual predators.

Before Brad could stop him, Ray was right in there.

"No, man, no fucking way would a sexual predator go after a kid like Trombley. Like, no offence, Trombley, but you are not the ideal kinda victim that a pedo or someone would go after,"

"Why would I be offended?" Trombley asked, confused, surprising Brad and Gabe with what seemed to be a normal response to a strange situation.

"If you were a sexual predator, I mean man, just think about it, you don't want to pick up some wiry kid who looks like he'd be mean in a fight. You wanna pick the helpless ones, the ones with the innocent faces, probably younger than Trombley. So you won't be picking up hitch-hikers – you'd stay in the city where there's more of a choice, I mean you don't want some nasty fat kid with a snotty nose, do you?"

"Ray, shut up," Brad said at last. He glanced at Evan, who looked both shocked and amused. "Don't print any of that,"

"No, man, print that shit! That's what people need to know, man! Sexual predators either go after chicks or little boys. We don't want people to think that hitch-hiking is dangerous, man, it's no more dangerous than, say, going to the park and playing on the playground! Kids like Trombley here are in no danger, seriously. Reporter, print that shit, otherwise there'll be no hitch-hikers left, and a great American tradition will be lost forever!"

Brad glanced back and saw that the reporter was busy scribbling in his notebook. He ignored it. "Ray, since when did you care about this 'great American tradition,' anyway?"

"Since forever! Fuck, Brad, do you even know me?"

Brad just shook his head. There were times when you could win a battle with Ray, but there were just as many times where no amount of reasoning could get him to let go of something. He knew Ray didn't really care about these things, but sometimes when he talked about things, he could get a little carried away and convince himself that they mattered. Brad knew that Ray wouldn't even remember this conversation tomorrow.

"I don't get you two," Gabe said, shaking his head. "Brad, you and Ray are like polar opposites. How can you two even be friends?"

Brad looked at Ray, who took his eyes of the road for a second to look at Brad also. Brad didn't take his gaze off Ray, but Ray went back to his driving.

"What are you talking about?" Brad said, his voice both dry and tired. "Don't think for one second that I am friends with this inbred piece of Californian trailer-park white-trash."

There was silence in the jeep, and Ray glanced at Brad again. He grinned, and Brad smirked back. Then Ray began to sing Avril Lavigne at the top of his lungs.


	6. Chapter 6: Ignorance is Bliss

Chapter 6: Ignorance is bliss

They had just passed over the border into Michigan State when Ray seemed to hit a whole new level of weird. He'd been driving for over nine hours, with pretty much no breaks, and although Brad had been trying to monitor his caffeine intake, or at least supplement it with water and food, Ray seemed to be getting more from somewhere.

"Man, this road trip, Brad, doesn't it make you think of all the things we haven't done?" Ray glanced at Brad, who looked at Ray wearily. "Just think about it for a second, alright? Think about it for a second. We've never driven from New York to California before, right? And we're doing that! We've never picked up hitch-hikers before, and we're doing that! Doesn't it make you think of all the other things we haven't done?"

"If I'm to be brutally honest with you, Ray, I'm going to have to say no. No, it doesn't, and nor does it make me _want_ to think about all the things we haven't done. Most of those things we haven't done for a reason."

"What?" Ray asked, his voice going all high-pitched, as it usually did when he was incredulous. "Tell me, Brad, what possible reason could there be to not dress in drag and go out to town? Please, give me one good reason."

"You get hit on by dudes," Gabe said, his voice telling his dislike of such a scenario.

"You get hit on by other men dressed as women," Evan said in a way that suggested that he'd had experience of it. Brad almost asked, but instead turned his attention back to his friend.

"See, Ray? Plenty of reasons not to dress in drag and go out to town."

"That was only two, Brad, and neither of them came from you. Come on! Why don't we do it in LA? We can visit the local gay bar -"

"Are you gay?" Trombley asked suddenly. Brad glanced back at Trombley, who looked more than a little uncomfortable.

"Jesus, Ray, you've scared the kid. He thinks he's riding with a raging homosexual."

"So what?" Ray asked. He turned his head a little to glance at Trombley. "You haven't got a problem with raging homosexuals, now, do you?"

Trombley shifted in his seat, pulling his bag into his lap and staring outside. "They tried to open a gay bar in my home town, but someone lit a fire in the place it was meant to be, burned the whole block to the ground."

"That is just sad," Ray said, shaking his head. "Everyone knows that gay bars are the best place to go to pick up chicks!"

"Really?" Gabe asked after a second's hesitation.

"Of course, my man!" Ray said with confidence. "See, in a gay bar, they think they're safe. They think they can let loose, with all the guys hitting on other guys. They think you're gay, they dance with you, then BOOM! You're in the bathroom making out. Easy."

Trombley was sceptical. "I don't think that'd work," he said, shaking his head. Brad sighed, his expression resigned.

"Oh, it works," he said, looking back into the back seat at their three hitch-hikers, his expression dead serious. "I've seen him do it."

"It was beautiful," Ray added. "She wasn't bad, either."

Trombley and Gabe both shook their heads, but the reporter looked thoughtful. "So what's the point of dressing up in drag?" he asked. "Wouldn't that ruin the whole thing?"

"Ruin it? No, no, no, my friend, I think you're missing the main component of this brilliant plan. Let me lay it out for you. They think you're gay, right? And you're probably very drunk at this point. So they think that you're just drunk and confused and they figure that there's no stings attached anyway. So not only are they sluttier than they would normally be, but they're also way more open to the weird shit, you know what I mean?"

"Don't ask him what he means, if you don't know," Brad instructed the reporter, who was opening his mouth. "Believe me – you're better off ignorant."


	7. Chapter 7: Don't shake the white man's h

Chapter 7: Don't shake the white man's hand

Finally, it was time to say goodbye to Gabe. He directed Ray to the nearest bus station, and gathered his things as Ray pulled over. Everyone got out to stretch their legs.

"Are you sure this is alright?" Brad asked. Gabe pushed his glasses further on his nose and grinned.

"It's a bus stop, Brad," Gabe said, squinting as light from the sunset hit him in the eye. "They might not come very often, but a bus will come. I'll be fine. I know I took you out of your way by a couple of hours already. This is sweet for me."

A car pulled over next to them and a head popped out the window. "Yo, you guys alright?"

"Yeah mate, just dropping him off at the bus stop," Brad called, gesturing to Gabe. The stranger pulled his head back in, then pulled over next to the jeep. He got out of the car.

"Where you headed?" the man asked Gabe. He looked to be of mixed descent, something about him made Brad think he was predominantly Mexican. He had dark close-cropped hair and an expression in his eyes that would have scared most ordinary people. Brad glanced over at Ray, who did look a little concerned – he had the wide-eyed expression that told Brad that he was working really hard not to say anything smart-ass that would get them in trouble. Brad appreciated it.

Either Gabe wasn't phased by the newcomer, or he just didn't realise that his jeep-mates were spooked by him. "Detroit ways," Gabe told him, lifting his chin slightly, his grin a little less easy than Brad had come to know it to be.

"Same as us," the new guy said. He held out his hand to Gabe. "Name's Poke."

"'Poke'?" Ray asked, but shut his mouth when Brad gave him a look.

"Nice to meet you, Poke," Gabe said with a grin, shaking the man's hand. "I'm Gabe. You offering a ride?"

"Well, we've got the room, heading in the same direction," Poke said, spitting. "Why not?"

"Thanks, man," Gabe said. Brad figured he better thank the guy as well.

"That's really decent of you, Poke. We didn't want to leave our friend Gabe here in the lurch but we're headed to California. So thanks," Brad offered his hand to Poke. Poke eyed the hand and Brad suspiciously for a moment, then gestured to Gabe to get in the car.

"No offence, dog, but the last time my people shook the hand of a white man, we sold all of our land for a couple of blankets laced with typhoid." Poke spat again, leaving Brad with his eyebrows raised and his hand unshaken. He got back in the car. Gabe stuck his head out the window.

"Thanks for everything, Brad, Ray!" He yelled over the engine. "Hope you get to California without Trombley shanking someone!"

"See you, Gabe," Ray called with a grin and a wave.

The car began to drive off, then reversed back. Poke stuck his head out the window.

"You're Brad?" he asked Brad, who nodded. "We dropped off a kid who was headed more towards California, just before the exit. Might be he's still needing a ride. It's getting dark, dog, know what I'm saying?"

Brad was surprised at Poke's concern. "Yeah, man, we'll keep an eye out for him," he said with a smile. Poke nodded, still serious like he was at a funeral, and they drove off. Brad waved as they squealed off into the setting sun.

"Hey, what did Gabe say about me?" Trombley finally asked. Brad glanced at Ray, who had one eyebrow raised and had been quiet far too long to not say something smart-ass. Surprisingly, he just grinned innocently at Trombley and got back in the jeep. "What? What did he say?"

"Nothing, Trombley," Brad said, the amusement in his voice almost completely masked by his exasperation. "Get in the jeep. We're on the move."


	8. Chapter 8: Finally All Together

Chapter 8: Finally all together

"Ray, double back and see if we can't find that kid Poke was talking about," Brad instructed as they got back onto the highway. "He was right about one thing – you don't want to be caught out on the road at night."

"Is it dangerous for a hitch-hiker at night?" the reporter asked. "Have you had experience hitch-hiking at night, Brad?"

"Jesus, reporter, do you have to turn everything into an interrogation op?" Brad asked, leaning his head against his headrest so he could look back at his passengers. When the Evan just smiled and shrugged unapologetically, Brad nodded. "Fine, yeah, I hitch-hiked once."

"You did?" Ray asked, surprised. "Then how come – I mean, what's with your fucking rule about 'no hitch-hikers' and all that?"

"Hey, this was years ago, and I've learned since," Brad said directly to Ray. He turned back to the reporter. "Most people won't pick you up at night, and the ones that do… well, they're the weirdos. The best thing is to find a spot of ground that's softer than the rest, and curl up til sunrise."

Evan scribbled in his notepad, and Brad spotted something on the road. "There. Ray, pull over."

Ray slowly approached the figure standing on the road, dipping his headlights as to not blind the kid. Brad wound down the window to chat to him.

"Hey kid, where you headed?" he asked. Brad watched as the kid glanced into the back seat of the jeep. He looked to be young, though not as young as Trombley.

"Uh…" he hesitated.

"Chill out, man, we're not going to kill you, although I'd be a little suspicious of Trombley there in the back," Ray called, trying to be helpful. Brad turned to tell Ray off, but strangely the kid laughed.

"Poke sent us," Brad said, taking a stab in the dark. "We did a little passenger exchange."

The kid's expression cleared. "Sweet, that guy is awesome. I'm Walt. I'm headed to Denver."

"That's pretty much where we're headed, jump on in!" Ray called. There was a little reshuffling to do, because Trombley didn't much want to sit in the middle. Walt took one for the team and took the seat in the middle. They took off.

"That is some crazy coincidence going on," Walt was saying. "How did you meet Poke?"

"We were dropping another hitch-hiker off just in Michigan state boundaries, and Poke drove up and said he could take him to Detroit," Brad explained.

"And he told you about me?" Walt asked. "What an awesome dude."

Brad took a good look at Walt. "I don't get it," Brad said. Walt was even paler than Brad, had fair hair and blue eyes, just like Brad. "How come he was so friendly to you?"

"What do you mean?" Walt asked.

"Well, I got the impression that he…" Brad glanced at Ray for help.

"Was racist to white people?" Ray supplied. Brad shot Ray a dirty look, in response to which Ray shrugged.

"Oh," Walt laughed. "No, that's just a front. He thinks it funny. He told me that all of his best friends are white."

"Weirdo," Ray muttered, pulling back onto the road and carrying on.

"That's rich," Brad muttered back. "You're gonna need some more caffeine. You get mean on your lows."

Ray shot a look at Brad, then gave his usual cheesy grin. "Introductions!" he announced. "Reporter, you start." Before Evan could open his mouth, Ray interjected. "Too slow! That's Evan, he's writing a piece on hitch-hikers, so I'd prepare myself for a whole bunch of weird questions, he'll ask about the sickos but I reckon he's just looking for tips." Evan opened his mouth to protest, but Ray was on a roll. "On your other side is Trombley! Trombley's an eighteen-year-old mechanical prodigy who doesn't like gays, so if you have leanings I'd keep them to yourself." Trombley gave Walt an easy grin. "Next to me is Brad, rule-keeper extraordinaire who would have you all out in the cold if he'd had his way. And then there's me," Ray turned to give Walt a proper mad grin. "I'm Ray, and this is my jeep. Welcome!"

"You really enjoy doing that, don't you?" Brad asked when Walt sat there, stunned for a moment, unsure how to reply.

"Doing what?" Ray asked, looking at Brad again, his expression neutral apart from a cheeky glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, like I said, I'm Walt, Walt Hasser," Walt had finally recovered. "Thanks for picking me up. Wasn't too keen to spend the night on the road."

"All good, Walt," Ray said cheerfully. "We'll find someplace to stop for dinner and keep going through the night. Everyone cool with that?"

They all murmured their agreement, and Evan launched into asking Walt questions about hitch-hiking. Brad turned to Ray.

"This is all going to blow up in our faces, you know that right?"

"Hey, you picked up the last one," Ray retorted. "Who knows? Maybe he'll turn out to be even more psycho than Trombley."


End file.
